Hotel Room of Doom

The AC's a joke

It grinds and it wheezes

The drapes smell like smoke

The sheets, cheap and scratchy

The blankets are pilling

I so need to sleep, but

My eyelids aren't willing

The trucks on the highway

Make windowpanes rattle

And upstairs it sounds like

A Civil War battle

The people are screaming

The furniture's moving

Are they fighting, or is it

Something else that they're doing?

I've finally dropped off

Then, MY GOD! What's the matter?

The bedside alarm goes off like a bomb!

Some joker has tuned it to in-between-stations

Then turned up the volume to an ear-splitting wail

And set it for ten minutes into my slumber

The son of a bitch should be rotting in jail

And I should be home, sawing some lumber

Instead I'm stuck here, with my brain getting number

As I try to count sheep; there they go, nose to tail

Then AGAIN with the clock-alarm blasting at me

I'd only hit "snooze" in my stark desperation

I turn on the light, but my sleep deprivation

Renders me null to suss the combination

That will silence the thing; so in my frustration

I rip out the plug, realizing too late

That I could have just turned the volume way down

If ever I have to stay again in this town

I might as well sleep on a sewer grate!